


Knee-High Socks

by Stuff (rosegardenlake)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending, Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegardenlake/pseuds/Stuff
Summary: You are water and oil.  Black and white.  Good and evil.  Why do you think I chose you and not him?  You can’t save someone like him.Keith and Shiro have been best friends since they were three years old, tossed into an orphanage together, abandoned by everyone else but each other.  When Shiro is adopted into a rich family and Keith into a poor one, they never thought about the consequences of staying together.  Not until Shiro's mom catches the two of them making out in their mansion and Keith learns just how much she really hates him - and all the reasons why Shiro would be better off without him.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 246
Collections: Bad Boys





	Knee-High Socks

**Author's Note:**

> HI FRIENDS. How has it been a year since I last posted something?? THE HORROR. I'm still working on my longterm Sheith fic but uh...it's taking a hot minute. Obviously. BUT I'm still here in spirit even if you can't tell, fufufu. SPOOKY.
> 
> ANYWAY, I originally wrote this for the Bad Boys zine! This is sort of a different version though. The Bad Boys version is 3k words and this is 7k, so...IT'S JUST DIFFERENT, OKAY. "DIRECTOR'S CUT" version. Wooooow. And thank you to the wonderful Toy who drew a few[ beautiful pieces](https://twitter.com/eventoysneedluv/status/1317256394307997701?s=19) for this! And to Em for beta-ing the zine version!
> 
> I HOPE YOU'RE ALL DOING WELL. SENDING WISHES AND STARS AND HAPPINESS. PLEASE ENJOY!!

Keith kicks at a few stray pebbles in the road, hissing into cupped hands and fidgeting nervously. The neighborhood is lined with the most regal mansions of the entire city, housing the richest snobs maybe of the whole entire state, and Keith stands in front of the nicest looking one of all. There's no denying it. It's not just a mildly regal sort of mansion, nor is it just nod-in-amazement kind. It’s the sharp gasp kind of mansion, the type that makes you stop in your tracks, eyelashes fluttering in surprise as you attempt to believe that this could actually be someone’s life. Someone human actually lives there. Someone real.

Keith sticks out like a sore thumb loitering in front of it. Even his color scheme is the opposite, pointing out with painful obviousness that these are the pearly gates of heaven and he’s from the bowels of hell. He’s not even _doing_ anything and he can _feel_ the tense looks from nearby neighbors through their tall glass windows, see their fingers itching over 9-1-1 on their phones, waiting for his next move.

Unless they’ve already called. Since he _definitely_ has a baseball bat hidden in his shirt. Like he’d actually do that... It’s like these neighbors have those porch light sensors or something, but instead of the light turning on for wild animals that pass by, they turn on for...well, maybe to these people he really is actually kind of like a wild animal. Maybe worse. Probably worse.

He lowers his head and tugs his hood on tighter, most definitely lowering his suspicion. Part of him thinks he should go back—he can’t keep doing this—the other part knows he won’t. Because away from the nosy neighbors, past the lawn of emerald green grass and pristinely landscaped yard is a window—and inside is where the mansion’s real treasure lies, priceless.

Keith debates himself for a moment longer, toes tingling with indecision (and the increasingly disturbed looks stabbing into his back), but, before he can decide, the window swings open and a bright shining head pops out.

Up above, framed by the light of the heavens is Keith’s most valuable treasure. That crooked smile, expectant and waiting as he leans out his window. With his dorky pastel polo shirts, soft knitted sweaters, and embarrassing knee-high socks, he grins so widely it almost physically hurts to look at. He is truly the most beautiful boy Keith has ever seen.

And just like that Keith’s indecision fades away. He lowers his cupped hands to let it all in.

“ _Keith_ ,” the angel says, lifting a hand to wave. “What are you doing out there in the cold? You’re going to get sick _again_. You’re not going to be able to stop me next time, you know. I'm coming over to nurse you back to health whether you like it or not. That's just the facts.”

The fight Keith just survived at home still feels wretched, wearing him down to the raw core of his gut. But, somehow, Shiro does it again: there is good in this world and it’s right here. For these few moments when they’re together, Keith can actually believe that.

It seems wrong this majestic being, an actual angel on earth, would wave to someone like _Keith_ , who’s wearing the only nasty jacket he owns, paired with his equally torn up wrecked jeans that he hasn’t washed all week. And maybe last week too, if he’s being honest. It’s not exactly like these kneeholes are for fashion.

Shiro pats the windowsill with an arch of his eyebrow. “Got somewhere else to be? I just turned my fireplace on. You can have the front seat to it.”

Keith cracks a smile, rubbing the remnants of tears with the cuff of his jacket. He shrugs casually, chuckling out, “Just taking in the view. You’re radiant. What’d you do? Dye your hair again?”

“Ha. I _showered_. You wouldn’t understand. I know how you used to run from baths: down the halls and right out the door like the coyotes were after you, towel swinging right off your waist and into the mud.”

“Okay. _Very funny_. I was like _three_. I don't do that anymore.”

Shiro taps his temple. “I still have the memory right here. Such shiny little buns running like the wind.”

“ _Shiro_.” Keith tsks and rolls his eyes. "Who says 'buns'? No one says 'buns'. No one."

"This cool guy right here."

"Yeah, _okay_."

Their friendly banter finally pumps enough courage through his veins to get him across the lawn. He goes to the side of it - away from prying eyes. The window is Keith’s secret entrance, reserved only for him. As he climbs up the rain gutter with practiced ease, Shiro waits at the top, catching Keith over the windowsill with some practiced ease of his own. Shiro pulls him in with those gentle hands of his, so soft and warm, such a contrast to the cold outside that it burns and tingles.

Keith didn't realize he needed this so badly. He shoves himself flush into his hold, snuggling into his shoulder, feeling much needed comfort wash over him.

“Hey, stranger,” Shiro hums warmly, taking Keith into his arms happily and rocking them back and forth. Keith could stay like that forever and feel like the luckiest person in the world, but Shiro’s too emotionally sharp. It’s not long before he seems to notice the wounded atmosphere in the air. And Keith is normally so good at hiding it too. With everyone else, at least.

The tone in Shiro’s voice immediately shifts as he leans back, tilting his head to inspect Keith’s face, gently catching his chin between thumb and forefinger. “Hey... You okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, Shiro, stop treating me like I'm two. Your nose would be red too if you weren’t living it up in here. It’s fucking freezing outside.” Keith is the sinner, so he lies to keep Shiro clean and free from worry.

He tries to laugh it off, but Shiro leans in slightly, burying his nose into Keith’s hair and giving a sniff. His eyes narrow. “...Huh,” he says when he leans back.

Keith clears his throat and looks anywhere else. He can just _feel_ Shiro’s judgement bloating up the room, waiting for Keith to cave. Keith sighs. “‘Huh’?”

“You’re smoking again.”

Ah...right.

Keith pretends like he’s going to squirm away, but Shiro’s so warm and smells so good the gesture is less than half-hearted. “So what?” he grumbles.

Shiro’s voice softens lowly as he brushes the back of his fingers gently across Keith’s cheek. If Keith were brave enough to look up, he’d see the compassion and care burning in Shiro’s eyes that he’s not ready to receive. “Come on. I know you. You only do that when you’re upset.” And then he says it, the thing that hurts most to hear: “Are you okay?”

Keith sighs heavily and lets his head fall into Shiro’s chest where he stays, tired.

No. The answer is just plain flat out _no_. He is tattered and worn from so many things in this fucked up world that makes up his pathetic excuse for a _life_ , but what will weighing Shiro down with it do? Just make the both of them miserable.

More heartbreak, more sorrow. What’s it all for?

A distraction is better. Shiro’s brow is already furrowed in concern, his mouth open in the beginning of an attempt to get Keith to open up about his problems, but _no x2_. Keith’s one step ahead of him. He pushes Shiro onto the bed, straddles his lap and kisses him so fiercely it’s almost painful. Maybe it’s what he needs.

Shiro is sweetly surprised. “Keith,” he tries to say around their kiss. He seems determined this time but Keith is determined too, so he turns it up a notch, lacing his arms around Shiro’s neck and tugging him in close with an aggressive pull of the fingers, just like he knows Shiro likes.

They _used_ to try to be good - especially Keith, who first fought this relationship tooth and nail for Shiro’s sake - but that was years ago, when an accidental soft brush of the hand was enough to still spike their heart rates. That was enough fuel for days. Keith’s older now. So is Shiro. Dreaming of it is no longer enough.

Shiro’s breath changes as he seems to understand how far Keith wants to go today.

“Keith,” Shiro pants against his mouth, breaking off to groan as Keith kneads into the sensitive spot on his thigh. “- _Ah_. Keith. My mom—if she finds out about us...” His breath goes so high it’s almost a wheeze. “She did another one of her speeches about hell and shame and distractions just this morning. I-I don’t know what she’d do. If she saw us. I don’t know what she’d...” But Shiro’s hands keep searing into Keith’s skin with increasing hunger as he lets out a long low groan of relief and turns his head back to give Keith better access. “Oh, god. You’re so beautiful...” He breathes it out helplessly.

Keith groans out a breathy laugh and gives Shiro's neck a quick peck before tilting his head up. “Tell me you’re not trying to lure me out to that cave across the river again. An ant bit me on the ass last time. It was a _huge_ invasion of privacy.”

Shiro laughs as he lets his head fall back onto the bed, hands still roaming with slow reverence, “I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, _you_ can afford to forget. Your privacy wasn’t the one invaded.”

“It wasn’t?” Shiro laughs again, nodding to Keith’s indecent hand placement, eyes twinkling.

“I said ‘ _invaded_ ’.”

Shiro claps a hand on Keith’s back pocket as he says in low amusement, “Sure, sure. Is this where the ant bit you?”

Keith chuckles deep in his throat. “Nope.”

“How about here?” He sneaks his fingers into the pocket and searches.

The twinkling in Keith’s eyes dances. “ _Closer._ ”

Shiro leans up to kiss him, chasing the soft laughter on his lips and then eagerly down his jawline. “You’re so _cold_ ,” he murmurs as he nuzzles his face and presses a kiss over Keith’s ear. The heat feels so nice against frozen skin. “How long were you out there for? You weren’t waiting for me, were you?”

“Not long, but still long enough to have five of your closest neighbors zero in on me. I thought they were going to call the police.”

“ _Oh_ , so _that_ ’s why I heard sirens.” He turns his head toward the window. “Is that a pitchfork I see?”

Shiro says it like a joke, because it is to him and Keith thinks that’s sweet. Blissfully sweet, blissfully ignorant. But the thought draws Keith back. He thinks of the neighbors quite literally waiting outside, worrying, wondering where that little hellraiser disappeared to. Thinks of the looks they give him, the pinched noses like he actually _smells_ or something.

...Maybe he does.

The police are a very real fear and Keith isn’t emotionally ready to deal with that today. He knows what it looks like, him being here. Plus, he’s nothing if not protective of Shiro’s delusions of an ideal light world. He doesn’t want Shiro to have to see that.

Keith swallows hard and pats Shiro on the chest, lowering his eyes before he’s seen right through. “C’mon. Onward, to your ant cave.”

“Yeah? You’d really do that for me? Even after your traumatic last experience?”

“Well, I thought about it and...what’s another ant bite? Making memories.”

Shiro laughs.

Keith shifts himself so he’s halfway off Shiro’s lap and tugs on Shiro’s hands, groaning at the weight that he is most definitely not helping to shift at all. “Why are you...so... _big_ ? Come _on_ , let’s _go_. Before the police come.”

He also says it like a joke.

With gentle care, Shiro gives Keith’s hands a tug forward, easily sending Keith toppling back onto him. He looks up into Keith’s face and tucks his hair behind his ear with gentle reverence, like he isn’t touching literal trash. “Let’s stay today,” Shiro says softly.

“But—”

“We deserve a bed every once in a while, don’t we? And my mom shouldn’t be back for awhile. We’ll be fine.”

Keith sighs. “Look, I was only kidding about the ant thing, you don’t have to worry about that. We’ll bring a blanket this time; I’ll let you top and everything... less ant exposure that way.”

Shiro laughs softly, wrapping his arms even tighter around Keith. “Don’t have to worry, huh?” He presses a tender kiss to Keith’s lips. “But I love you,” he says in a voice that’s pure and genuine and true. “Of course I worry.”

Keith grits his teeth against it. “ _Shiro_...come on, I’m saying it, okay? You were right. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Nah. Let’s just stay on the bed. I’m feeling lazy anyway. I don’t really want to cross the river and all that.”

“Are you...are you sure?” Keith whispers, heart tangled. “Because I -”

“Yeah,” Shiro whispers. “I’m sure.” He leans up for another kiss. “You make me so happy.”

It's funny how such a simple statement draws Keith back. Keith, the little devil people run from in the streets, gripping their pepper spray and their virtue like it's all in danger. At such simple words, his little nose reddens all over again. For these few pure minutes, he allows himself to forget what everyone else says, the glares disappear, the negativity melts. Keith just thinks of Shiro. And then he's in heaven too.

It’s still young love, both newly acted on and exciting. Each touch is both butterfly light and built from the strike of lightning. But it doesn’t feel awkward, only inevitable. They’ve been together for so long. First, growing up in the orphanage together, then, the same high schools. Keith wouldn’t have survived all those years without Shiro. He still considers himself lucky, even if the people who took him in only did it for the paycheck. And that’s not even the worst thing about them.

But it’s good. This is lucky. Shiro, in this home, living this lifestyle, is set up for life. Even if it means Keith will have to lose him when Shiro takes a step even higher and Keith will take his inevitable step lower. Away.

But for now, they’re here, together, and Keith will quietly lock away each and every one of these moments so he can live off them in the future, when he’s alone.

They lose themselves to the other so quickly, pulled under completely, oblivious to the world around them. This comfort, this warmth, this home, found in the other.

That’s why they’re both still on Shiro’s bed, moaning low and soft into each other’s mouths, forgetting the whole world around them, when the door swings open.

Keith and Shiro startle. Caught like a deer in headlights before that awful screeching of brakes. Too late.

She’s stopped, staring at the both of them half-naked, Keith’s pants pooled around his thighs, Shiro’s hand dipped into his boxers. Their breath still mixed. Her mouth is hung open in horror. Shiro’s mom.

Shiro's super high-strung, super religious, super homophobic mom.

It’s that look. Like the neighbors. Like everyone who knows who Keith really is, sees him and his torn up clothing and too-long hair and no-good piercings and -

“ _Mom_ ,” Shiro whispers in horror and Keith can feel the heat of his breath for how close they still are, barely even centimeters apart.

Her breath puffs with her fury. “ _No_.” Her voice begins to rise as she realizes the details: it’s not just anyone, but _Keith, the devil,_ who has his dirty little hand down her perfect little Shiro’s white elastic briefs. A _gay_. A _poor_ gay. Heaven for _bid_.

She invested in Shiro. She was the one who picked him from nothing, believed in him, saved him, expected him to do as she said and give only gratefulness and full submission in return. Because the alternative would be sending him back. And why on earth would anyone want to go back?

There’s real terror in her voice. “No!”

Instead of letting go, Shiro clings to Keith tighter, protectively. “Mom—”

Her eyes pop out of her head as she screams, a wild storm in a room so quiet only five minutes ago. “ _You little demon_! You devil! Get out of my house! I’m calling the police! Defiling _my son_! Sneaking your way in, you _snake!_ You _brainwashing conniving heathen_!”

Keith can just stare in horror, he half-lifts a hand in his shock, desperate to erase this whole thing. She takes it as retaliation somehow and presses herself against the door in horror, screaming toward the open window. “Help! Someone help me!”

“Jesus,” Shiro’s voice grows desperate. “Mom! _Please_! Stop! I _invited him_.”

It’s no use. If she had a broom in her hand, she’d swing it.

“It’s _Keith_ ,” Shiro keeps saying. “It’s Keith!”

She leans over for the dresser in search of a weapon.

“Let me go,” Keith breathes to Shiro, crawling off him in a shocked flustered mess. He hurriedly zips and buttons his pants. God. Does he apologize? Does he just run?

He takes one last look back to Shiro’s look of horror and distress. Feels his heart barbed with a hook, tugging, at the thought of leaving.

Keith turns and tries to say, “Ma’am, I—”

His voice invokes the demon inside of her. With a force that doesn’t seem to fit a fearful old woman, she snatches him roughly by the scruff of his jacket, rips him away from Shiro’s shocked grasp, and tosses him out the door and away, with a sharp quick thrust like he’s poison. Like he’s catching. He nearly topples down the stairs face-first.

Shiro keeps protesting desperately. “ _You can’t do this_. It’s _Keith._ You _know_ what he means to me!”

Keith’s already running down the steps and shoving his way through the door so hard his palms hurt.

Shit. _Shit_. They knew they were playing with fire doing this here. They knew what Shiro’s adopted mom thought of boys loving boys, of Shiro, and, even worse to her, of Keith. But Shiro insisted _he_ _wanted this_ and Keith had nothing in his life to lose but Shiro, so they kept it their little secret.

What happens when their secret isn’t a secret anymore?

He stops outside the door, shell shocked. _Shiro_. He’s up there, alone, fighting Keith’s mistakes by himself. It’s too cruel and Keith is nothing but a believer in right and wrong, so he doubles back and climbs up the rain gutter, carefully fitting himself beside the window, hidden, out of sight.

Not that you’d have to be pressed against the window to hear how loudly she’s wailing. It’s like Shiro just killed an angel or something. “You’re no fool! It’s not normal, that’s why! It's wrong! And with someone like _him_? What are you _thinking_?! It’s abhorrent! You’ll go to _hell._ You’ll throw out everything for some _rat_! You’re too young to realize the mistake you’re making. But I _know_. I’m trying to _save you_.”

Shiro’s voice hardly quivers. “Keith has done nothing but support and encourage me. If there’s anything good about me, it’s because he’s helped me become _who I am_ ; his gender and where he lives have nothing to do with that!”

“He comes from a _broken home._ Have you seen what he _wears_ ? He _spit in the garden_ —”

“—That was _one time_. He’s never had Brie before.”

“What kind of animal -! And that awful bike he has...! He _swears_. He _smokes_! He’s an _orphan_.”

“ _I_ was an orphan.”

“But you’re _good_. You’re different. I knew it from the moment I saw the both of you at the orphanage together. You are water and oil. Black and white. Good and evil. Why do you think I chose you and not him? You can’t save someone like him. But you? You have a _future_ with a beautiful wife, kids, a job. He can’t help you with any of those. Just because he’s the last link to your past you think you need to hold onto him, but you don’t see that it’s poison! I know you think it’s love, but infatuation isn’t the same thing. One is dangerous, very dangerous, and he’ll ruin your life if you let him. You can have the _world_ , Takashi. We’re giving you a gift and you’re squandering it!”

Keith swallows hard, fist clenching. How can everyone see so clearly how he is when Shiro can’t?

Shiro says in a low firm voice, cut with venom, “He’s my best friend. _I love him.”_

Keith closes his eyes, throat tightening around emotion.

She’s quiet for a moment before her voice drips malice. “That _disgusting little rat_ will _never_ be good enough for someone like you. In a few years, he’ll probably be drinking his worthless life away in a _bar_. I’ve seen it time and time again. If you stay with him, you’re doomed to follow. Is that what you want, Takashi? Is it? We can give you whatever you want. He will give you _nothing_.”

“How can you possibly know what I want? I’m not _you_. I’ll _never_ be like _you_.”

There is a loud slap. Keith forgets to breathe, hands clenched so tightly together he bleeds. He takes a step forward, but knows that’s suicide. If he goes in there now, Shiro will only be in even more trouble. He digs his nails in harder and grits his teeth until he tastes iron.

A long silence bloated with sharp edges hangs around them all. Her tears have magically dried. She stretches her hand out. “...If you go to him, you're not welcome here ever again. I don't care your reasons. We don’t want that kind of son.”

The orphanage told them they’d be happier once they were found homes. And maybe some part of that is true. Shiro came from nothing, just like Keith, but now he lives in a mansion, eating full luxurious meals, sleeping in a warm comfortable bed, driving a convertible, on his way to whatever college he desires. If that isn’t every child’s dream then what is?

Keith can’t take that from him.

"I thought you were different. I overestimated you," she says before the door slams and she leaves Shiro in silence.

It takes everything inside Keith not to rush to Shiro, to press his hand to Shiro's reddened cheek and soothe the slap that just cracked against it.

He already knows what Shiro will choose though. He knows he’ll climb through the window and sit beside Keith on the rooftop and tell him it’s alright, try to comfort him, just like he always did back at the orphanage too. Always taking care of others, never thinking of himself for once. Shoving his own pain down.

Someone needs to think of Shiro for once. And Keith can’t lead him right off the cliff to nothingness.

So Keith hurries down the rain gutter and away. He moves so quickly he slips halfway down and falls hard onto the cement. His wrist jams. His tailbone bruises. His pants tear even more. He doesn’t spare a moment to dust himself off before he’s rolling to his feet and running as fast as he can to the other side of the train tracks, where it’s darker, where the grass dies, not thrives. Where he can just be alone.

Alone came much faster than he thought. He had hoped they’d have until graduation, at least.

He pushes his way into his shack of a house, the screen door banging loudly behind him. He can’t remember if he took a breath the whole way home or if any of the neighbors watched. His mistake is all-consuming and his senses are overcome.

His so-called mom spits venom at him as he runs past her. “I thought I told you I didn't want to see your face tonight, you little shit! Hey!” He can hear her voice raising. “I _said_ , what the hell do you think you’re doing here —”

He shuts the door behind him, tossing himself to the mattress on his floor and shoving his pillow over his head, praying for silence. By the grace of god, she decides he’s not worth her effort and leaves him be.

Quiet. The black hole of buzzing in his head. The day of reckoning is here, the day he always knew would come.

It’s always scared him, this thing with Shiro. Because Shiro’s the one bit of softness in a world of sharp-tipped knives. And Keith’s not soft, he knows that. He’s one of the knives of this world too. Shiro’s going to get cut, or worse.

He can’t stay with Shiro. He never could. It’s not right. It never has been. Keith is the dark and Shiro is the light. They cannot mix. His mom was right.

He’s hardly settled in when there’s a soft click on the window. Keith doesn't hear it, too busy sniffling into his pillow.

...What will he do without Shiro though? He can’t even imagine.

Another tap. Louder. More insistent.

“Keith. ... _Keith_."

Keith jerks up, looking up at the window, startled. He doesn’t even know why he’s so surprised when he sees a slit of sunlight. It feels so wrong somehow. Here, lost.

He chokes out, “ _Go away_ ”.

A bang is the response.

“I _said_ -”

“Keith. Stop pouting. Come on, I want to talk to you.”

Keith grabs onto the windowsill and pulls himself up sharply. There Shiro is. Of course. Never listening to reason.

Keith scowls dangerously. “I’m not pouting.”

Shiro grins crookedly. “I _know_ you.”

“You _shouldn't_ be here! I’ve told you _how many times_ you wouldn’t _survive_ in a shithole like this. And you come running right into it anyway. You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

Shiro tsks through the cringe on his face, hands on his hips. “You’ve got to be kidding. Did you forget _I_ was the one to teach you the ropes back at the orphanage? Did you really think you developed that mean right hook all by yourself? Mm-mm. No.”

Keith grunts into the face of light, squinting. It’s true. But Keith wants to protect him anyway.

“Keith, come on. Can you _please_ come out? Not that I can’t handle it - because I most definitely can - but I’m not going to lie, I’m a little nervous out here. Everyone’s staring.” He gives a tense chuckle just for good measure. "I guess now I get how you feel about my neighbors."

“...It’s those fucking knee-high socks,” Keith grumbles, sinking onto the windowsill. “You shouldn’t wear them with shorts and tennis shoes. You look _ridiculous_.”

Shiro smiles crookedly up at Keith. “Oh, yeah? I know you like them.”

Keith sighs heavily. “Shiro, seriously. You’re going to get mugged. This part of town is sketchy at best and I can _smell_ the money coming off of you.”

“I came straight to you.”

“Yeah, it’s my so-called _parents_ who are going to mug you,” Keith heaves out another sigh, turning to look at his door. “I mean it. Go home. Before they find you. Before _someone_ finds you. It’s only a matter of time.” He sinks back onto his mattress, out of sight. “Just leave me be.”

“Keith,” Shiro says.

Keith closes his eyes.

“ _Keith_. I need to talk to you. I mean it too. I’m not leaving without you.”

“ _Go home_. She was _right_. Awful, but right. You’d be crazy to throw this all away. Don’t you see how lucky you are? You can’t toss it out.”

“I know I’m lucky. I’m not going to toss it all out. That’s what I want to talk about.”

Shock runs through Keith and he sits up straight, blinking fast.

So...Shiro chose what was right for him. That’s...a good thing. That’s great. That’s...something Keith can’t take hearing right now. He bottles up the hysteria, the trainwreck coming for him, and says in the clearest voice he can: “Good! Finally, you make sense for once. Then _go_! You can’t make her more mad than she already is.”

“Are you crazy? What do you think I meant? I’m not going back, Keith. Not to her.”

Keith closes his eyes tightly and leans his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose and hissing as he realizes what he really means. He hits his head against the wall, rattling his vision. He shakes his head slowly. “...Shiro. No.”

“Come out, Keith.”

“ _No_. I’m going to _wreck your life_. Look at what you have!” His emotions are out of check and his voice gets too loud. He hears a bang from the living room and he turns, tense, afraid of the noise they’re making. He presses a hand to his throat and hisses, “ _Just go, Shiro_. Don’t be an idiot! If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me! We can’t both live on the fucking streets. I need to know you’ll be okay.”

Shiro’s voice rolls smoothly with song, “Come _out_ , Keith.”

“No! Just go!”

“...Fine. I can see you won’t come out.”

“ _Go, Shiro_ ,” Keith whispers hoarsely. Jesus.

There’s a small grunt and then fingers appear overhead, gripping onto the windowsill with white-knuckled determination. A head of black hair and eyes appear. “Then I’m coming in.”

“ _Shiro_!” Keith hisses as Shiro’s knee bangs against the wall and the sound bounces through the room. He jumps up and watches with a swirl of emotion as Shiro tries to lift himself. Keith knows how slippery it is to get in through the window - it’s why he doesn’t try anymore. Not to mention the lack of space that Shiro’s three times the size of. “They’re going to _hear_!”

It’s a ridiculous sight, really. Shiro’s strong and can do just about anything. Anything but slip through tiny spaces. Half-cracked windows aren’t meant for big guys but Shiro’s testing the window’s limits anyway, wiggling back and forth in an attempt to fit the top of his shoulders through. He winces the entire way.

“Help me out,” he grunts.

Keith looks around desperately, gritting his teeth. “You are _going_ to get yourself _stuck_.”

“I’m...coming...in...” Shiro huffs. “We’re going to...talk...one way or the other...”

“I don’t want to talk! You’re going to kill yourself.”

“I’ve got this,” he wheezes, most definitely _not_ getting this. His skin is already red where the window is crushing him and, by the sounds of it, he can hardly breathe anymore.

“Auuuuugh. _Shiro_. _Fine_! God! Stop crushing your damn body. Move back. I’m coming out.” He shoves Shiro out, who shakes the window as he hops down to his feet. Keith takes a step up, trying to squeeze through the tiny opening. Shiro grabs him by the arms and Keith pushes off the side of the wall. They both heave and pull until Keith pops free.

He falls right on top of Shiro in one big heap on the floor.

“ _Ow_ ,” he groans, letting his face fall onto Shiro’s chest, defeated.

Shiro laughs softly as he heaves himself up into a seat. “You know, I don’t actually think I would’ve made it through that window.”

“No _shit_ , Sherlock. That’s what I was _telling you_ ,” Keith chokes out a raw laugh, closing his eyes and rubbing at his nose. “Ugh, my hip.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro hums in sympathy, leaning over to attend to it.

Behind Shiro, Keith’s neighbors are all lurking and staring, like hungry lions waiting to dive into a rare meal of sheep. Keith quickly rolls to his feet, dust and all. “...Come on, I don’t like the looks everyone’s giving you. You have ‘mug me’ printed all over your forehead.”

Shiro smiles, quietly sizing the others up.

"Come _on_." He grabs Shiro by the hand and drags him to the edge of their trailer park, where the train tracks run. Out of sight from the rest of the world, at the edge of the forest, they’re free to do as they please without being judged from either side. He slips out of his leather jacket and looks down at the red marks on his arms and across his hip. He tries to rub them out, watching the red blossom. “Stupid little window.”

“You okay?”

Keith’s eyes flick up to Shiro’s, scouting out the red splotch on his face he saw from earlier. It's just as Keith thought. Shiro acts tough, but he's just as soft inside as Keith. And parents hurt, even if they’re not their ‘real’ parents.

Keith's voice softens as he reaches out for Shiro's cheek, gently ghosting his fingertips over the redness. “...That’s what I should be asking you.”

“I’m fine, Keith. You worry too much.”

Keith grunts, but Shiro's right, as always. The worry is barbed in his lungs. That tingling is there in his fingers, overwhelming him, so he fishes for a cigarette, huffing anxiously when he can’t get there fast enough. Shiro sighs, but doesn’t protest. As they watch the grey twist and dance from him and into the tall grey sky, time finally slows. His head clears, but it only fills him with sadness as he realizes what must happen.

Shiro has to hear it. It’s for his own good. Goodbye. If it’s for Shiro, it’ll be easy.

But it’s not.

Keith clears his throat and mutters around his cigarette. “...You shouldn’t have come. ...I want to talk.”

“Me too,” Shiro says quickly, cutting him off and clapping a hand over Keith’s mouth. He leans it, eyes solid and certain as he towers in Keith’s vision. “I’ve decided. Let’s go. Away. Far far away. Where they can’t find us. Just you and me. Right here, right now. We don’t look back.”

Keith blinks, shifting away from Shiro’s hand. He stares at him long and hard, puffing on the cigarette for a few more moments before letting it hang loosely from his parted lips, red embers giving way to the sway of smoke. He shakes his head slowly. “Shiro...you’re crazy. It’s just like your mom said: that sounds _just_ like something the dumb teens from the orphanage would say. The ones who are probably ‘drinking their dumb lives away in a bar’. Your mom is an evil _bitch_ and I _hate her_ , but she was right, you know. She definitely goes about it the wrong way, but she wants what’s best for you and...so do I.”

“No,” Shiro whispers, “Earlier you said I was lucky -”

“-You _are_.”

“I’m not fighting you on this. I’m saying you’re right. I am lucky. I’m lucky because you came into my life. Lucky because, if I had been left alone in this town without you, I’d be just as grey and lifeless as everyone else here. I don’t want to be like them. You save me, Keith, just by being here. You keep me sane.” Shiro grabs Keith’s free hand tightly. “She wasn't right about anything. Those teens that ran, dreaming away...they weren’t the dumb ones. They took a chance on something they _loved_. On _someone_ they loved. Wouldn’t that make life worth living, instead of following the rules of people we _hate_? Who are the dumb ones, really?”

Keith sighs, looking down at his hand clasped inside of Shiro’s. “In an ideal world, sure, but we're _not in_ an ideal world. We graduate soon and then you’ll go off to college—”

Shiro’s voice rings firmly. “I don’t want to be ‘saved’ if it’s without you. A life without you is a life I don’t want to live. You can't decide this for me.”

Keith lets out a small scoff, but his heart suddenly feels bruised. It sounds so over-the-top and dorky and it should make Keith rolls his eyes, but it’s so Shiro, so genuine, so completely _him_ , that Keith’s resolve freezes up inside. Brittles. Because he knows Shiro means it.

“Keith, I don’t need this.” Shiro rips his expensive sweater off his head in one clean movement and tosses it away. “I don’t need the sports cars and fancy dinners and to grow so old and miserable I’d try to separate my child from who they love. I never _have_ needed it. What’s got me going through these years is having you beside me. These people - all of them - they’ve lost sight of what’s really important. But we don’t have to. I just need you. I just want you."

"I have to be the logical one here," Keith whispers, throat knotting painfully. 

"Listen to me. I’d never trade you for all of this combined. Never. I would never find peace or happiness that way, it lies in being with you. Keith. Believe me.”

Keith closes his eyes, really closes them. He’s been doing this thing lately - trying to imagine the future, a path where he lets Shiro go. He’s never actually been able to do it though, envision a future without him.

What if...Shiro’s right...? And they _can_ be happy together? Both of them, not just Keith. Keith would toss a billion dollars right into the flames without blinking once if it meant it'd keep Shiro safe. What if Shiro felt the same way? Who is Keith to try to sabotage Shiro's happiness? A happiness that Shiro decides on.

Keith looks to the floor where Shiro’s sweater lies. His stupid ugly sweater that hasn’t suited him at all since he’s started wearing it. He’s always thought that.

He kneels gently to pick it up, thumbing over the soft fabric. “This is a really nice sweater.”

“There are other sweaters,” Shiro says, matter-of-fact. “But there aren't other Keiths.”

“God,” Keith swallows around the burning in his throat. “I just...I can’t give you half of what she can,” Keith whispers. “I don’t have much money. Just from that shitty part-time job, which is next to nothing at all. Those Starbucks trips would be over. That new Mercedes she promised you for your birthday... if you stay with me, you’ll never see anything like that. Ever.”

Shiro shrugs, feeling the leather jacket Keith tossed over his shoulder. He takes it for himself. “You know, I’m more of a motorcycle person anyway.”

Keith presses his lips together tightly, trying to push down his smile, this crazy idea. "...You know,” he says softly. “I have one of those.”

"I know." Shiro grins crookedly. “Riding on the back of it is actually my ride of choice.” It’s almost contagious, this idea. Stupid and _so dumb_ but... following the heart... might be brave too.

“Got an extra leather jacket I can borrow?”

Keith laughs outright, pulling the cigarette from his lips. Giddiness begins to settle in his gut. Maybe they can do this. Actually really do this. “Not one that would fit you.”

“That’s okay. We can make this work.” Shiro holds Keith's jacket out in front of him and admires it like it's not the most worn grimy thing he's seen. Keith thinks he's joking, but, before he can protest, Shiro forces it on. It stretches and pulls.

Keith watches in amused appreciation. He lets out a choked bark of a laugh. Shiro looks ridiculous, especially with his damn polo shirt and beige fucking cargo shorts.

He looks up to Keith's gaze and fights against the fabric to hold his arms out. “I think it’s just my size honestly. Very cozy.”

Keith tries to hide his grin, rubbing at the laughter on his cheek with his cold knuckles. He can feel how warm with fondness his face is. “...Lose the damn socks. They’re way too long.”

“Why would I want to do that? They keep me warm.”

Keith wrinkles his nose, laughing.

“Will you still take me? Even with my knee-high socks?” Shiro murmurs, holding his hand out for Keith. And there's that voice again, teasing and joking even though this situation is so serious. Shiro makes everything feel light and possible. All the darkness, all the tarred up fear mucked inside his chest, it melts out Keith and this crazy idea morphs inside of him, forming a new shape. He almost feels reborn.

Shiro waits on those train tracks, light beginning to peek through the clouds behind them, patient smile on his face. A calm cloudy night.

Here, they were supposed to be happy. And they are, but not for the reasons they thought. Their home doesn’t have to be four walls and a mattress. It doesn’t have to be a lady masquerading around as a parent, telling them it’s not okay to be who they are. That’s not a home at all. Not for Keith. Not for Shiro. There’s only one home for him.

It’s crazy but...maybe they were both lucky, after all.

“I have enough for the basics,” Keith whispers, gently placing his hand in Shiro’s. Shiro beams like the sun that shines behind him, squeezing with encouragement. “We’d have to get jobs immediately.”

“I know,” Shiro says.

“It’ll be hard. We won’t have a decent living space for a while. Maybe a long while.”

“I know.”

“But...but it’ll be warm." Keith swallows hard and wrinkles his nose in a sad attempt to overcome the knot growing in his throat. It doesn't work. And it's Shiro anyway. So he buries his face into Shiro’s shoulder and let's out the tension clawing at his back. Shiro wraps his arms around Keith tightly. “And I’ll have you and you’ll have me and we won’t have to get yelled at anymore. We won’t have to be apart.”

“...I know.”

Overwhelming relief sinks over the both of them. They don’t have to give the other up. They can make this work.

Shiro gently holds the back of Keith’s head with his hand. He’d probably never admit his tears either. 

They’ve never done this before. Never made a decision like this, together. There’s a tingling in Keith’s fingers again, but it’s different this time. There’s almost a feeling like a promise in them, excited and fresh. New adventures, theirs and only theirs.

“You’ll have to be okay with living on fast food and the same damn jacket for a week. And we’ll get you your new socks, don’t worry, but we might not be able to find them as long.”

“The _humanity_ ,” Shiro groans playfully. He leans in to press his forehead to Keith’s. “But do I get to keep you?”

Keith smiles around his tears, nodding his head. “Haven’t been able to get rid of me before, have you?”

“Not for your lack of trying.” Shiro snorts in amusement, before his smile settles. “...Thank you, Keith, for trying to keep me safe, no matter what, no matter where. I’ll do the same for you, okay? I promise.”

"Ha." Keith looks up at him, at that genuine happy face and he knows it's not a lie. Shiro doesn't lie. _“Deal._ ”

And if anyone asks about these “dumb teens”, their future is in fact _not_ drinking their life away miserable in a bar, despite parental expectations. They found what they were looking for somewhere along those train tracks that once divided them, both on the back of a motorcycle that can dart through the wind like lightning itself.

They found home.

**Author's Note:**

> Art by [toy! ](https://twitter.com/eventoysneedluv)


End file.
